


To Boldly Go

by Dancingdog



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Horror, Humour, Kid!Spock - Freeform, Unrelated fics, Wings, attempt at it, cute fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of unrelated Star Trek drabbles. Feel free to request or suggest a prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birds of a Feather

McCoy groaned as he was graced with another face full of feathers. He pealed the large appendage off his head and sighed as the wing swept back into its resting position.

Spock glanced up briefly before returning his attention back to his experiment.

The doctor tried to focus once again on his own research, but was interrupted by yet another assault from the fawn wing. He huffed in irritation and slammed his padd down.

Spock didn't twitch.

McCoy frowned at the lack of response and placed his hands on the table.

"This isn't working."

"Obviously."

McCoy narrowed his eyes and tried to swing the wing in a way that would ensure the vulcan received the same treatment he had endured for the last two days.

He managed to knock himself off his chair.

Spock still hadn't moved.

The CMO hauled himself upright only to stumble forwards when his wings tried to overcompensate.

"I swear they have a mind of their own," he grumbled.

"I highly doubt that, Doctor, considering the fact that not only are they linked to your Central Nervous System, but they possess no independent coordinator within their structure which would enable them to-"

"I get the picture, Spock. It was a figure of speech."

The Science Officer's mouth drew into a thin, straight line in the vulcan equivalent of exasperation before returning back to his research on what chemicals were in the drug that the residents of the planet below had injected McCoy with, against his will.

A sudden, involuntary shiver wracked Spock's frame and the doctor within McCoy was on immediate alert.

"You alright, Spock?"

The vulcan blinked, as if surprised by the concern for his well-being.

Leonard rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely at Spock.

"You... shivered."

Spock tilted his head slightly.

"I am cold," he replied, as if it was the most logical answer in the world and _why couldn't the simple-minded human understand that?_

Leonard furrowed his brow; he knew that the ship was suited to human standards, which made it a little on the cool side for his pointy-eared friend, but he never thought it was _that_ cold. Now that he looked more closely, the tips of Spock's ears did look a bit pale and his neck was covered with tiny goose bumps. Did Spock always huddle into himself like that?

Sensing the doctor's gaze, the Science Officer tried to relax his stiff shoulders as he answered the unspoken question.

"I am fine, Doctor. The laboratories are the only areas, excluding sickbay, where my core body temperature tends to decrease. It is of no concern; I have acclimatised."

Leonard stared pointedly at the tips of Spock's ears.

"Uh-huh. _Sure_ you have." A thoughtful expression crossed his face before he walked around the table until he was standing by the vulcan's side.

Spock tensed when something large, soft and decidedly fluffy wrapped gently around his body.

"Relax, Spock." The command was muttered, embarrassed.

The vulcan did as ordered, albeit hesitantly and was rewarded with the fawn wing curling more securely around his body. It was surprisingly pleasant.

And warm.

With his other wing, a lot of concentration and Spock's impressed gaze, McCoy dragged his textbooks from the side of the table and the pair continued their research in a comfortable silence.

"Next time, Mister Spock, tell me when sickbay's too cold for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I would love for people to give me prompts or suggest fics (it gives me something to do)!


	2. Humanity

Spock let out a small yawn and snuggled further into the Captain's shirt. Kirk grinned and curled his hand protectively around the three-year old, his eyes crinkling when Uhura let out a quiet _"awww"_ from her station.

The young vulcan blinked sleepily and turned his head to watch the stars through the viewing screen, smiling contentedly when Jim began pointing out constellations and distant planets so different from our own, with life forms we can't even begin to consider.

There was a _'woosh'_ as the bridge's doors slid open and a gruff voice called out "Chekov! How many times do I have to remind you of the consequences of _'forgetting'_ a check up?"

A soft curse spoken in Russian and the Ensign was sinking into his seat as the doctor, wielding a tricorder, stalked almost predatorily towards him.

Suddenly, Spock was wide awake and reaching, small hands outstretched, for the newest addition to the bridge, even going so far as to whine when McCoy didn't immediately turn around.

Startled, the doctor whirled to face the source of the pitiful noise and his expression softened when he spotted the vulcan child staring stubbornly at him, a petulant frown marring his features.

Kirk chuckled when Spock squirmed in his lap, only settling down when the CMO stooped to pick him up.

"He's taken quite a shine to you, Bones."

"No idea why. I got the impression I was nothing more than an illogical, emotional irritation to him when he was his adult self."

The child looked up at this, a confused frown on his face. That is until McCoy noticed and cracked a smile at him and the child's face lit up, a happy giggle escaping his mouth.

"Doesn't seem to be the case now. He really likes you." Jim smirked as the toddler tried to make a grab for McCoy's communicator.

"Or he likes to see what he can get away with," muttered the doctor as he pulled Spock away from the device.

"I _can_ hear you."

"I know you can, which means you can also hear me when I say _'keep your paws off'_!" McCoy mock threatened as he lifted the little vulcan high into the air, prompting full blown laughter from the child.

Sulu and Chekov shared a knowing look and once again pretended they were more interested in their duties rather than the adorable events taking place between the two most clashing personalities on the ship.

"Doctor, you said you'd watch a movie with me today," Spock stated matter-of-factly.

"Did I? I don't remember saying that. Are you sure I wasn't talking to another highly intelligent vulcan child?"

"Nuh-uh!" Spock shook his head as he grabbed his friend's shirt.

"Alright, alright. Well, I've got to work at the moment, but how 'bout we watch something when my shift's over?"

Spock beamed and nodded enthusiastically as Leonard handed him back to the Captain, who was going to need a muscle relaxant if his smile got any wider.

As McCoy turned away, Spock hopped off the Captain's knees and ran to the Doctor, wrapping his arms around the man's legs and squeezing tight.

"Thank you."

McCoy didn't usually compare himself to the Grinch, but his heart grew three sizes larger.

"No problem, kiddo. Now come on, I've got a hypo with Chekov's name on it if he doesn't get his backside to sickbay within the next three minutes. Isn't that right, Ensign?"

Pavel gulped and looked to Sulu, who merely shrugged and turned back to his station. The young Russian glanced to McCoy and darted to the turbo lift the minute he saw the CMO's eyebrow raise.

Spock pulled gently at the doctor's trouser leg.

"Can I come? Just to see what you do? I've never been before."

McCoy grinned and held his hand out, which Spock eagerly gripped and followed the navigator into the lift, pulling McCoy with him.

When the doors finally shut, Sulu turned to the Captain.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Of course."

"Doctor McCoy seems to have taken as much 'shine' to the new Mister Spock, as Mister Spock has to the Doctor."

"It certainly seems that way."

"Do you think Mister Spock will remember any of this in two weeks time? When he's back to normal?"

"The Jeunessetians didn't specify. It'll be a shame if he doesn't though, won't it?

"Aye, Sir." There was a pause, broken only by the beeps and whistles of different consoles around the room, before the Captain sighed thoughtfully.

"Who would've thought that Spock was such a human-like child?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, hope you liked! I'm open to criticisms and fic requests!


	3. If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: Violence, gore, Character deaths (sort of), smiling Spock**

"I can assure you, Doctor, that there are more pressing concerns than my own well-being at this present time."

"I know, Spock, but what you did to those things down there... maybe I should give you a quick scan."

"They were a threat to the Captain and yourself. I only did what was logical and as such I do not need to be tested on my mental nor my physical capabilities."

"...Spock, I'm not sure that-"

" _Doctor._ The Captain is still in need of medical assistance; I suggest you tend to him."

"...Alright then...I just wanted to check that you're alright."

"I am quite well."

McCoy watched concernedly as the Science Officer turned on his heel and left sickbay, intent on reaching the bridge. He hadn't even asked to see Jim to make sure he was okay.

Maybe something really was wrong.

The doctor shook his head and put these thoughts aside as he threw off the covers of the bed he had been placed in and unsteadily made his way to the isolated ward Jim was being held in, his thoughts casting back to what little he remembered of today's events.

Jim, Spock and the good doctor had been sent down to the planet's surface along with two security guards, Rodgers and Jackson, to welcome the Desiniaans to the Federation. They were a rather new civilisation and much about them was unknown to outsiders, which made it all the more surprising when they contacted the Federation and suddenly asked to be a part of them.

The Desiniaans had made for odd creatures. They were goat-like, not dissimilar to the Faun from old Earth myths and they spoke to each other with a mixture of Standard, bleats and hoof stamping. They were a highly religious people and often wore strange sigils as a part of their attire, even going so far as to ward their homes from the powers that lie beyond.

The head of their planet's intergalactic affairs had invited the Enterprise's five-man team to his mansion for an evening meal and Jim had had no reason to decline. The planet's inhabitants had so far been friendly, if not a little inquisitive and the planet itself was warm, vibrant and calm.

Which had made it so much more shocking when a knife was pressed up against Spock's throat.

Upon entering the mansion, Daakros, the head of intergalactic affairs, had produced an ancient-looking dagger and had grabbed Spock from behind and thrust the blade against his neck, just enough to draw blood. The other four men had reacted immediately, but Daakros' men were quicker, getting close enough to knock McCoy out and break one of Kirk's legs. Rodgers and Jackson had fired their phasers, but the beam merely vanished, the two humans with it.

When McCoy finally awoke, he was chained to a wall, handcuffs biting sharply into his wrists and an assortment of medieval medical tools lying on a side table next to him. He panicked at first, but his brain froze when his gaze landed upon a bloodied golden uniform with long steel rods protruding from various parts of its owner's body.

A still body.

Fear pumping through his veins, McCoy glanced around the room frantically, his heart speeding up when he spotted the curled up figure of Spock. Too much green was pooling around him.

The CMO screamed for help, his eyes widening when a muscular Desiniaan, appearing from nowhere, stalked towards him with a plank of wood in his hand, a mixture of black smoke and what seemed to be purple lightning trailing him. He grinned as his pupils dilated to cover the entirety of his eyeballs and raised the plank high above his head.

When he next awoke, pain pounding furiously at his brain, he was witnessing the scene of Spock, dripping with blood, viciously ripping a Desiniaan's body in half and spinning around just as quickly to tear into the next Desiniaan.

There was a cracking blow to the doctor's skull as he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

The third time he awoke, McCoy was staring up at the grey ceiling of his sickbay, monitors beeping quietly behind him and a sharp pain pressing insistently on the inside of his skull.

"Easy, Doctor." Came a soothing voice as a strong hand pushed gently at his chest when he tried to sit up too quickly, causing his head to spin. The CMO glanced up to the owner of the hand and was relieved to see Spock hovering over him, blocking his vision of everything else in the Sickbay. The Doctor sighed quietly before bolting upright when he remembered the state he had seen Jim in.

"Where's Jim?" He asked almost frantically.

"Stable."

McCoy frowned, anger beginning to boil at the easy dismissal of their Captain and at how Spock seemed to truly believe that he was fine after what he had done to the inhabitants of the planet below, which led them to their current discussion of how McCoy, considering he had recuperated (ignoring the migraine and a few wounds on his arms and legs), should be tending to Jim's needs rather than the First Officer's.

When Spock had taken his leave without so much as a backwards glance, McCoy stumbled towards the Captain's bed in an isolated ward. What he saw made his stomach lurch.

Nothing had been done to alleviate the Captain's condition, except for what appeared to be an oxygen tank feeding to his mouth and nose and as such, the steel rods were still wedged firmly into Jim's body. Granted, the nurses wouldn't be able to perform the surgery needed to dislodge the beams, but they could have done something to relieve the pain. Where were the other doctors? Shouldn't they have removed the rods? How long had Jim been like this?

In a panicked haze, McCoy idly wondered why Spock hadn't deemed it fit to call for assistance; it was almost as if the vulcan had rescued his two companions and just dumped the Captain on the bed for a later date. Now that he thought about it, Spock shouldn't be able to move, not after the amount of blood loss he'd suffered and especially if no doctors had treated him. McCoy paused.

Spock hadn't had a scratch on him when he went to the bridge.

But that was impossible.

McCoy gulped and crept towards the Captain, checking the monitors as he did so before realising that they weren't even on. Neither was the oxygen tank.

His stomach heaved and this time he was powerless to stop the bile rising up his throat as he pressed two fingers to the Captain's pulse point in his neck. Nothing.

Head pounding, McCoy darted into the main area of sickbay and called out weakly for help, his thoughts racing faster than his mind could process. It was only then did he notice the streaks of red decorating the otherwise pristine floor. He followed the shiny fluid and staggered backwards at the sight of the pile of mutilated bodies stacked up in the corner of the room, crude symbols drawn in their own blood on the walls around them. Blue-shirts.

His stomach churned again and he collapsed to the floor, dry heaving when there was nothing but air left to expel.

McCoy's heart thundered in his chest when he remembered the calm way Spock had left the room. Had he known about the bodies? Did he kill these people? Was there something on board the ship murdering the crew? Was that why the Desiniaans had turned against them? Who else was dead?

Too many questions battered against McCoy's mind and he felt his vision begin to get blurry, a panic attack threatening to overcome him. He clawed desperately at the floor and found himself once again in Jim's room. Tears streamed down his face and his body began to overheat.

He had a duty to perform.

Clearing his head of all thoughts other than the safety of the crew, McCoy dragged himself to his feet, resolutely not looking at the body on the bed behind him, before hailing the bridge on the intercom. He had to warn the crew that there was something, or someone, on the ship that was causing these murders.

Except comms were dead.

The doctor smashed his fist against the wall and quickly turned on the spot to get to the intercom system in the main area of sickbay.

That was until he saw Jim sitting upright on the bed, smiling at him.

McCoy froze. "...Jim?"

The Captain chuckled darkly. " _Not quite._ "

McCoy startled when there was a click as the private ward's doors locked behind a new occupant of the room.

Spock grinned lazily as he toyed with the odd-looking blade in his hand, similar to the dagger that had been held against his throat on the planet below. McCoy shook; terrified at the amount of blood oozing from the tip of the blade. The way Spock sized him up as if he was perfect for dinner and the way his once soft brown eyes flashed dangerously under the light, making it appear as though there was no white, only black, made Leonard shudder violently.

If McCoy had taken a closer look at the sigils found on the planet, he would have realised that they were what old Earth books referred to as Angel wards, to prevent the winged creatures from entering anything that the markers of the symbols wanted to keep a secret.

If McCoy had been a bit sharper when observing the dagger that was being pressed into Spock's throat, he would have noticed that it was not of Earth or any other planet's origin, but rather one borne out of tortured souls, mentioned in books pieced together with Latin, describing the beings that bared them as creatures made from nightmares and pure evil and black smoke.

If McCoy had paused to think about the way the Desiniaan's eyes had clouded to black when he had been attacked, he would have realised that the Desiniaan people shouldn't have that ability.

If McCoy had paid more attention to the symbols in his sickbay, he would have noticed that they were the same wards as those on the planet.

If McCoy had pieced all this information together, he would have realised that the Desiniaan people were being possessed by demons and had been for a long time.

If McCoy had realised that the blackness of Spock's eyes wasn't a trick of the light, he would've come to the conclusion that Spock was also being controlled by a demon.

If McCoy hadn't been staring at Spock for so long, he would have noticed the shell of Jim lunge at him with a dagger of his own.

He wouldn't have been able to stop him, but he would have noticed.

 

* * *

 

In a place independent of human time, where many beings dared not think about and where the agonised screams of tortured souls ripped through the atmosphere as they were torn into by creatures unheard of and too frightening to describe, one man clad in a black suit sat on his throne, expensive amber whisky swirling gently in its glass. He paused and smiled slowly.

Four hundred and thirty new souls in the space of half an hour.

A new record.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit darker than the others. If you've watched _Supernatural_ you'll see a similarity to Crowley and his followers, if you haven't, don't worry about it! ;)   
>  I'm open to improvements and fic prompts for absolutely anything (including pairings)!


End file.
